


Hayabusa1138's Notebook

by hayabusa1138



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Animal Attack, Banter, Battle Droids, Bith crime lady, Black Sun, Clone Wars, Crash Landing, Execution, Hovertanks, Legacy continuity, Other, Poetic Justice, Video Game Characters, rebellion era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-12
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-20 08:23:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4780481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hayabusa1138/pseuds/hayabusa1138
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New A New Hope Infinities story is up, starring Admiral Ackbar as the leader of the Rebel fleet realizes that the Rebellion is finished after Mon Mothma's execution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dignity - ANH Infinities (Mon Mothma, Vader, Palpatine)

The auburn-haired woman sat silently in her small grey cell, eyes staring straight towards the magnetically sealed door. Her exhausted breaths came as evenly as she could bear to make them, hitching every now and then as a slight spasm of pain rushed over her.

The torture hadn't always been physical. That had been reserved for each and every rebel that had been captured by the Empire while she had been forced to watch. Every question that was asked of her aides, captured pilots, even semi-civilians that had been manning bars and mess halls on their captured ships were directed towards her as well. It could end with a single answer, the dual interrogators had asked. Anyone that had any real knowledge had died before breaking, true to their training and their cause.

She had led the Rebellion as part of an ever-shrinking triumvirate for two years. Differences of opinion between herself and Garm Bel Iblis had led to his departure and the very battle station that had captured her had claimed the life of Bail Organa.

Somewhere it had all gone wrong, the last minute defensive strike against the Death Star had failed and their base on Yavin destroyed with the survivors of the first low-powered shot being captured shortly thereafter.

The door hissed open, a harsh rush of air entered the prison cell and blew the folds of her stained white robes lightly. The dark and demonic figure that stood in front of her had once frightened her as it did almost every other sane being in the galaxy. Now his raspy artificial breath and tusked helmet sent no feeling over her save for relief. It would all be over soon.

"Mon Mothma," Darth Vader said. His voice was a metallic bass that reverberated throughout the small room. "It's time."

She stood from her cot and straightened her robes as best she could. Mon Mothma closed her eyes and took as deep a breath as she dared with her bruised ribs. "Lead the way, Lord Vader."

The walk from the Imperial Palace's to the nearby Monument Plaza was long and she feared that her legs would give out from under her, sending her frail form sprawling onto the ground. The Imperials that watched her from the lens of the holocam droid that hovered in front of them would have loved that sight, she thought, the leader of the fallen and scattered Rebellion utterly humiliated. One last thing before her death that would make their cause the laughingstock of the galaxy and add to the futility of it all. She would not give them that pleasure.

Monument Plaza loomed large on the surface of Coruscant, the statues of the heroes of the Republic long ago replaced by effigies of Palpatine and other Imperial heroes. A holoimage of Grand Moff Tarkin was the latest addition to the crop, awaiting the sculpting of a physical testament to his recent victory. Mon Mothma watched as a flock of columbiform birds scattered away from the ground, one of them leaving a pile of droppings on the emitter.

The crowd was staunchly Imperial, immaculate in their finest dress uniforms while the general public's view of the proceedings would be broadcast live throughout the galaxy via the HoloNet on every single channel.

Palpatine stood proudly on a center dais, his grey and wrinkled skin peering out of his voluminous black robes. His sickly yellow eyes beamed down upon her and a cackle escaped his lips. Standing next to the Emperor, looking resolute in a grey jumpsuit, was Bail's daughter Leia. She looked down at Mon Mothma, a hint of pity in her eyes.

"Citizens of the Empire," Palpatine began. "Due to the efforts of Grand Moff Tarkin and Lord Vader, the leader of the terrorists that have brought war to the Empire has now been captured!" The assembled crowd applauded loudly and the faintest of curses and jeers caught Mon Mothma's ears.

Her blue eyes stared into the camera lens of the closest droid, staring into the virtual eyes of every one that was watching. The Rebels that had survived were watching, of that she had every confidence of. They would vanish as best they could, some fighting in small hit and run attacks as they had when the war had first started and some would wait until the time presented itself, if it ever did. Every single being that had raised the crimson phoenix banner of the Alliance Starbird knew that they did so at the risk of their own lives. Every one had been expendable. Even herself.

Darth Vader stepped along side of her, gauntleted hands resting upon his belt as Palpatine's speech continued, close to the onyx metal hilt of his lightsaber. That same blade had killed an untold amount of Jedi and had ended the life of her Senate colleague Fang Zar so many years ago. Those names would be good company to be in, she thought.

"Citizens of the Empire, see now what becomes of those that threaten peace!" Palpatine's closing remarks sent the audience into a wild applause. The loud ovation nearly masked the hissing as Darth Vader's lightsaber ignited. The hum of a hundred bees filled her ear as the audience died down.

"Do you have anything to say?" Darth Vader asked. It was a last minute plea for mercy that he was expecting, she thought, or a blubbering plea for her life that would rob her of any of the sparse dignity that she had left.

"Long live the Republic," she said. There was a flash of red light and then no more.


	2. Heroes of a Different Sort (Clone Wars, Battle Droids)

The statistical odds of surviving in a hovertank decreased drastically as one entered an urban environment. Every broken window and busted door was the potential hiding place for a clone trooper armed with a blaster cannon. OOM-0110 sat in the turret of his Baktoid-made armored assault tank, photoreceptors staring deeply into the holoperiscope in front of him. The tall buildings of Selvernos's capital city of Gevest made snipers a possibility, each of them waiting in their nests for a shot to present itself.

All of these dangers made the command droid stick to the limited vision of the holoperiscope instead of standing up and enjoying the unobstructed view that being outside the canopy would give him. "Keep moving," he ordered. A crossroads was ahead, the junction of two of the main thoroughfares of the large city. Abandoned landspeeders lay where their owners had fled from them when the battle for the city had began days before.

The AAT hummed towards the junction, bouncing lightly as the hovertank's repulsors lifted it up on the derelicts that littered the road. Past the large road, five meters away from the edge of the road, the laser-blasted ruins of an apartment complex loomed. It had been brightly colored once, 0110 saw, the telltale signs of paint residue invisible to a human's eye, but not to the multi-spectrum photoreceptors of a droid. "Halt!" he called out. Behind his slate-gray tank striped with sooty camouflage, the three other hovertanks behind him came to a stop.

0110 studied the building, zooming in on the ruins of the hotel and switching frequencies to gain every possible advantage. There was nothing wrong with the building in any of the droid's visual spectrums, but his servobrain screamed that there was a 65% chance of an ambush coming from that specific building.

"Infantry, move forward to the edge of that building." The hovercarriers following behind the large profiled hovertanks lumbered their way forward. They were large blocks of alusteel, a rectangle just over 6 meters in length that tapered down in height over the engine of the craft. 0110 watched intently as the open-topped armored transports moved to the opening of the building and the skeletal battle droids poured out with a loud "Roger, roger!" Inside of a ring-shaped armored core at the transport's front, nervous looking droids held their heavy repeating blasters close, aiming at the building's openings.

"Focus laser cannons to wide beam," the command droid said. The gunners of the other tanks with him as well as his own answered in affirmative. The large laser cannons of their hovertanks had two settings for two widely different purposes: wide beamed blasts that were used primarily against enemy infantry, and narrow beams that were designed to punch through the armor of enemy hovertanks.

The battle droids walked down the 16 meter wide street, now at the duracrete median that separated the two sides. 0110 watched the scene cautiously as the 40 battle droids took cover behind the large block, three fingered hand resting just above the shoulder joint of the gunner below him.

A single blue blaster bolt broke the tension as it soared out of a window on the building's first story and impacted harmlessly on the droid's cover. "Open fire!" 0110 cried out over his comlink. The clone troopers inside of the building opened up first, joining their jittery companion. Single shots in quick succession from blaster rifles were joined by the rapid staccato of heavy repeater nests.

The droids responded in kind by holding their smaller blaster carbines over their cover to take blind shots toward the building while the gunners in the transports opened fire, spraying red bolts toward the building. 0110 felt his hovertank rock slightly as the main laser cannon fired, sending a yellow burst of energy at the hotel that blossomed into a fiery explosion where it hit. A shower of debris rained down upon the streets as the shots from the other tanks in his squadron hit home.

"Tanks cease fire." 0110 pushed open the canopy hatch and stood up, exposing himself above his tank. The command droid armed the repeater in front of him and joined with the tank's two blasters as they peppered the building. "Full cease," he ordered a second later. The stalemate up ahead continued, red and blue shots traded back and forth. "Nexu Three, head up to that juncture and provide close infantry support."

"Roger, roger!" The hovertank mentioned rumbled over several of the abandoned civilian speeders, crushing one of them as the repulsors evened out. A bright flash from down the street, a kilometer away, caught the OOM droid's photoreceptor. A blue colored bolt raced towards Nexu Three as it came to a halt at the crossroads. 0110's tactical brain processed all of it as if in slow motion. The narrow beam slammed into the angled front of the hovertank and pierced through the angled hull just below the large driver's hatch in the middle. It annihilated the driver and continued through the tank before hitting the power generator. The first billowings of dark grey smoke poured out of the hovertank before erupting like a geyser of fume and fire out from the commander's hatch as it was blown open by the force of the explosions within.

The repulsors on the hit hovertank died and the craft fell to the paved streets, the charred barrel of the laser cannon pointing downwards. 0110 was not programmed to have emotions, his creators at Baktoid had thought that it would lead to inefficiency in combat with organic beings. What he was programmed to be was cautious, and caution mixed with tactical reasoning to come to the realization that whatever it was that took out Nexu Three would need to be taken care of, despite the tactical risk that it would take.

"Nexus, form up!" The AATs backed up, farther away from the square and the large laser cannon that was guarding it. The commander's hatches above the small turrets opened up and the other commander droids stood up. "Sector 43 is guarded by a laser cannon emplacement," 0110 said. "We're going to need to take it out before we can get the meatbags in the hotel for our infantry."

"Can we call in an airstrike?" OOM-6021 asked. The commander of Nexu Two motioned along the road towards the air.

"The Republic has the air," the final command droid said. "I've been surprised that we haven't gotten ARCs on us already."

"We'll have to load our bunker busters and proceed down the road to take it out ourselves." 0110 turned around and studied the area. The road ahead curved slightly to the left, blocking a shot from the cannon from anywhere but the small square, where they would be able to fire at them as well. "Angle your vehicles while heading down that street until the last microsecond, maybe the Maker the will have them bounce their shots." He looked over to the firefight still going on in front of the hotel. "We need to the infantry to help us with that gun and they need us to help us with that hotel...

"All right," 0110 continued. "Nexu Two and myself will travel down that road and engage the laser cannon. Nexu Four, you take advantage of us drawing its fire and get in front of that hotel. Two, if Four gets hit, take his place."

"Roger, roger!" Again, the grating sound that 0110 wished had been programmed out of the battle droids. Even when issued an order by his own superior officer, the droid was powerless to avoid saying the word.

OOM-0110 remained standing in the turret of his hovertank as the other two vehicles in his platoon buttoned up into the relative safety of their armored hulls. Snipers didn't worry the commander now, only the laser cannon emplacement at the end of the street. "3181, get those bunker buster shells ready, I want them ready to fire in a nanosecond." The AAT's gunner signified his obedience and turned his fire control over to the six limmie-ball sized holes near the base of the hovertank. Inside each of the launch tubes were a single high-explosive shell designed to penetrate deeply into a duracrete structure and then explode.

"Nexus, move out!"

The AATs moved at their full speed down the once busy street, 0110 looking as anxiously as a droid could through his electrobinoculors at the curve in the distance. The crossroads and the first line of sight for the laser cannon approached and 0110's driver kicked the engine's to the their full power. The command droid calmly tightened his grip upon the repeater in front of him, aiming the large blaster straight ahead. "I want blasters to open up on my signal," he ordered. The two droids manning the other two heavy blasters acknowledged their orders and aimed their weapons straight forward.

The first shot from the clone's laser cannon went well wide of the AAT as 0110 cleared the opening of the intersection. He squeezed the trigger of his blaster, arcs of red fire erupting from his hovertank as it advanced. The walls around the dug in laser cannon erupted in small explosions as the blaster fire impacted harmlessly off them, leaving nothing more substantial than dark scorch marks where they hit.

Another shot careened towards the lead tank, shattering the commander's hopes that the constant rapid blaster fire would have led the cannon's crew to either flee or take cover. The shot hit home at the very angled side of 0110's tank, just to the right of the driver's hatch and ricocheted into a building.

The tank rocked heavily under the concussion of the shot, the electrobinoculars clutched in 0110's hands dropping from his usually sturdy grip and clattering off the hull and shattered on the paved streets below. Nexu Two took the lead tank's momentary slow down as a chance to steer ahead of the hovertank, the main laser cannon firing off inaccurate snap shots.

Nexu Two steered straight towards the laser cannon and took its next shot low. 0110 could only watch in what a human commander would call "terror" as the massive explosion from the detonation of the missile shells tore the turret from its housing and shot it into the air. "Keep firing!" he called out, mechanical voice loud over the sound of blaster and cannon fire.

The emplaced laser cannon fired once again, the thinly pointed shot bounced off of the 'crete surface of the road. The ricocheted shot soared into the air. The gunner of 0110's hovertank zoomed in on the flash from the shot, taking care as the AAT sped down the avenue. "Got him!" the droid said. 0110 watched from behind the muzzle flashes of his own repeater's shots as the fired shot soared down the street and impacted solidly with the enemy laser cannon.

0110 pulled up his electrobinoculars and surveyed the scene of where the formidable enemy had been. The large laser cannon was a bent and cracked wreck from which smoke poured out in a constant billow. A few survivors of the shot shambled deeper into the building.

"Good job, droids!" Over the comlink, the reports of victory coming from the apartments spread. The commander looked towards the two disabled AATs as his hovertank returned to the square to rendezvous with the infantry battle droids. Of the three tanks that he had set out from their base this morning, he was once again the only survivor. The experience merged with the hundred other battles that he had fought throughout the three years of the war inside of his processor, bringing him ever closer to the day where he would lose no one.

"Mount up and secure your prisoners," he said. "We're headed back home."


	3. Dark Forces: Anoat Sunset (Kyle Katarn, Jan Ors, Moff Rebus)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After capturing Moff Rebus in the sewer system of the planet of Anoat, Kyle Katarn and Jan Ors must figure out where to stow their captive.

The Moldy Crow sat upon the rocky surface of the planet Anoat, the bulky avian-shaped freighter's brown hull blending in with the dirt and stone around it. Inside of the small craft, the door to the decontamination shower opened, the smell of raw sewage seeping out into the cabin.

"I don't know how, but it got worse..." Jan Ors crinkled her nose in disgust as Kyle Katarn stepped out. He was clad in civilian gear, dark pants and a tan shirt. In his hands were the clothing that he had been wearing just minutes before. "If you want me to keep flying this ship, you're going to need to replace that thing."

"Not my fault that someone built their base in the middle of a sewer." His partner was standing next to her cot, a large blaster pistol held tightly in her hand and pointing at the occupant of his own. Of course she'd have him sit there instead of her own bunk, he thought.

Imperial Moff Rebus sat back against the bulkhead of the ship, his cocky smile showing teeth the same color of his sweat-stained white undershirt. "My work requires a lot of security."

Kyle gritted his teeth at their prisoner's words. Security in Rebus' case meant a labyrinthine sewer complex filled with cataracts of waste that he had to wade through, guarded by enough dianogas that left him shooting at every bubble in the fetid liquid. It had taken him nearly a hellish hour, but he had finally made it. He could still taste the foul liquid and smell its lingering odor despite the extensive decontamination shower that he had just taken. "It wasn't secure enough."

"No matter." Rebus looked smug despite his position. "I won't be telling you anything."

"We'll leave that to Cracken," Jan said. "Last I heard that some of his crew wasn't happy with your weapons being used to destroy an entire Rebel base."

"I do good work." The Moff's boast sent a wave of anger through Kyle's partner that he could almost feel despite her still calm exterior. They had both seen the ruins of Talay base just days before, carbon scored durasteel buildings still smoldering against the purple night sky, their former occupants laying where the powerful blaster fire had felled them.

"Not anymore," he said. "So, where are we keeping this guy?"

"We can't do the cargo bay, especially with your collection back there."

"The last thing we need is him getting hold of a blaster," Kyle agreed. "Trip back to the Hope will take over a day, so that takes the refresher out."

"That just leaves..." Jan trailed off and both of their eyes went towards the only remaining room in the ship and then back to their prisoner. Rebus' mouth dropped open in shock as devious grins appeared on their faces.

"N-no, you can't mean..."

"Get up!" Jan lifted the stunned Moff up by the crook of the arm and gave him a slight shove towards Kyle.

"Payback's a murglak, isn't it?" The agent led his prisoner over to the door of the decontamination shower and opened it with the press of a switch. The still remaining odor of Anoat's sewer system drifted into the cabin again. 

A quick shove sent the Moff was at the other end of the small room. He stood up quickly as hit the metal floor and raced for the open door. It closed quickly with a hiss. With the press of a few buttons, the quarantine mode was activated, locking the room from the outside. The muffled sounds of his fists hitting the metal door was all that the two could hear.

The pair walked through the door and into the large cockpit of the craft. Two consoles sat in front of each other, offset to the side. "So tell me, Kyle," Jan said as she took the rear seat. "How bad was it in there?"

"What's the worst mission you've been on?"

"On Oulanne..." she began.

"Ten times worse."

She laughed, a pleasant sound over the hum of the repulsors and the barely audible thuds coming from the midsection of the ship. "You haven't ended up with an infected leg, an almost 40 degree fever and stuffed into a locker while the rest of my crew went to find help."

Kyle looked back at her. "Really?"

"I wish I was kidding," she said as she pulled her piloting goggles over her eyes.

"You win with that one. So far. How'd that happen, anyway?"

"It's a long story," she said. The frantic pounding behind both of them increased into a crescendo. "One it looks like I'll have the time to be telling. Our water's running a bit low." There was a pause as she checked the navcomputer. "We'll have to make a stop at Chijust to restock. It'll add about a day to our trip."

The freighter lifted off from the desolate planet and streamed its way out of Anoat's atmosphere. As the stars elongated and shifted into the blue field of hyperspace, Kyle could have sworn that he had refilled the water tanks before their last mission.


	4. Memories and Thoughts of the Future (Obi-Wan Kenobi, R2D2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aboard the Millennium Falcon en route to Alderaan, Obi-Wan meditates about the path he is going down and encounters a reminder of the past.

The main ring of the Millennium Falcon was quiet as Obi-Wan Kenobi stepped out of the crew quarters that he, Luke and the Wookiee shared. The dark durasteel grey deck of the freighter was cast in deep shadows as the night cycle entered its second half, small lights running along the curvature of the ship providing the only illumination.

The aged Jedi Master pulled his robe close to him and suppressed a slight shiver. The cool recycled air in the craft was a far cry to the scorching desert heat of Tatooine that was barely mitigated by the frequently breaking down cooling system that he had in his hut. His booted feet sounded loud against the deck as he walked towards the main hold and its adjacent common area.

The familiar golden droid sat in the semi-circular couch with his head hunched downwards, photoreceptors dead. A telltale power cord emerged from his back and snaked around the seat until it plugged into a power conduit next to the Dejarik board. Obi-Wan smiled slightly at the sight. Everyone on the ship except for him was asleep, even the droids.

Obi-Wan had taken the droid for merely just another Cybot Galactica protocol droid when he had first seen him at Luke's side and it had taken hearing his full designation to realize that the droid was far more than standard. He was originally Anakin's droid, rebuilt from a thousand spare parts and a busted up frame that he had taken out of a junk heap. The realization had brought with it a twinge of fear, for the droid had always had a nasty habit of not knowing when to keep his vocabulator switched off. Yet the droid made no mention of remembering the name of "Kenobi" or even "Skywalker."

Kenobi continued his walk through the ship, stepping through doors and passing through empty cargo holds before finding the perfect place. The life support systems hummed its song as it took the air from inside of the ship, filtered it and added a cooling element before sending it back out through the ducts. A few medium-sized cargo crates that had no doubt at one time carried any number of elicit cargoes stood stacked in the corner. 

The Jedi Master sat down on the grated floor and crossed his legs. He took a deep breath in and opened his mind to the Force. The upcoming days would bring events that he sorely needed to meditate upon. The smuggler had announced quite boldly that the journey to Alderaan would only take a little over a day and a half after they had escaped the Imperial Star Destroyer and made it into hyperspace. It had left little time to think.

The door hissed open and Obi-Wan opened his blue-gray eyes as a series of tweets and whistles invaded the silence. Standing in front of the door was the shining white half-cylinder astromech droid. "Hello again," Obi-Wan said.

The droid responded to his greeting in a series of whistles and beeps before ending with an inquisitive warble.

"Of course I recognized you," Obi-Wan said. "It's hard not to remember you, Artoo."

R2-D2 chirped happily, lights along his semi-spherical domed head blinking along.

"I was wondering if you remembered me. Threepio didn't say anything and..."

Artoo emitted a series of chirps that resembled laughter.

"Bail had his memory wiped?" Obi-Wan ran his palm across his white beard to suppress a smile. "Considering how talkative he is, I can't say that I blame Bail. Who knows what he might have said and to who."

The droid beeped along quickly.

"You know that you can't tell him," Obi-Wan said. His mind flashed to a slight lie that he had practiced throughout the years. It had been a lie of necessity, the Jedi Master thought, for neither the boy or perhaps even Leia were ready for the whole truth. He'd have to keep his own counsel on when that day would be. He had just told Luke that his father was a Jedi Knight and a hero in the Clone Wars; a far cry from the undignified fate of a spice smuggler that his aunt and uncle had told him. Telling the boy that the man that his father had become had murdered his own compatriots, sparing no one, not even the younglings in his slaughter, would have done nothing but scare the boy straight into the wastes.

Artoo rolled closer to Obi-Wan and let loose a mournful tone.

"They've known one truth their whole lives and they must be eased into it. They can't know that Anakin and Vader are the same, not yet."

The droid hesitated for a moment before warbling in understanding before rocking forward on his two legs and emitting a series of questioning chirps.

"I know that Leia's been captured by the Empire," Obi-Wan said. He closed his eyes once again and peered into the Force, images of Luke racing along dark corridors with the princess in tow flashing in his mind. "There'll be a rescue and the boy will be there. As soon as we get to Alderaan and get that information that you're carrying to Bail, it'll be done." Obi-Wan knew that Bail would ask him to lead the battle when they arrived and he could not refuse the offer. His reflexes had slowed slightly with age, but the Force could compensate for that. What couldn't be made up for would be the years without any meaningful practice save for the occasional tussle with Tusken Raiders, even if one had been led by an old friend.

He stood up from his meditation, muscles and bones giving an unpleasant sounding creak. Obi-Wan frowned at the thought but consoled himself that at least he still had his mind that had led to numerous victories during the Clone Wars. Leia's words from the message that Artoo had played for him ran through that mind: "information vital to the survival of the Rebellion," she had hurriedly stated. 

"What did the princess upload to your memory banks?"

Artoo thought for brief seconds, shaking his domed head before chirping out a negative.

The Jedi Master allowed himself a smile at the astromech's response. OnlyAlliancepersonnel with a specific security clearance would be able to view the files on his memory banks, the droid had said.

 

Obi-Wan walked away from the droid and patted it on the top of his head. "I suppose I'll see it soon enough." He turned towards the door and walked back into the main cargo hold. They would reach Alderaan in a day, he thought. Enough time to give Luke a crash course in the Force for the battles to come, though there would be a lot more time for more in-depth training later. The door closed behind him, leaving Artoo alone in the hold.


	5. X-Wing: The Three Who Lived

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the destruction of the Death Star, the three survivors talk about those who didn't make it home.

Three Who Lived

Luke Skywalker was done with handshakes and pats on the back. In the past day he had more of them than he could have ever accumulated in three lives on Tatooine. Only days ago he was living on the insignificant desert planet with his aunt and uncle and wishing for adventure to take him off that rock. Now he was the Hero of the Rebellion with the medal to prove it, along with everyone's new best friend.

The young man walked through the large room in the ochre-colored Rebel base, avoiding the dwindling revelers as best he could. The large golden medallion that had been presented to him by the princess bounced against the yellow jacket and black shirt that the Alliance had given him , an honor and an annoyance. 

Han had initially refused the honor, along with Chewbacca, citing with an unusual amount of vehemence that the people who really should have gotten the award were the ones that didn't make it back. Luke couldn't disagree with the smuggler. Out of the thirty ships that had launched from the jungle base, only three had made it back. Twenty-seven pilots had paid the final price for their cause and Luke Skywalker could barely name more than three of them.

Of those three it was Biggs Darklighter that he had truly known. 

"Hey, Sky... Luke!" The voice with a tight Corellian accent floated over the diminishing crowd. "Over here!" The voice belonged to a pilot only a few years older than Luke but already a seasoned veteran. Wedge Antilles was sitting at a plasteel table, mulling over a bottle of some sort of liquor with the other surviving pilot and a blond woman seated next to the latter man. Both of the pilots were still in the flight suits that they had worn during the battle and during the large medal ceremony just hours before.

Luke pulled the wooden seat away from the table and sat down next to Wedge. "Wedge, Keyan. How have you two been?" Luke hadn't seen the other two pilots since their own medal ceremony the night before.

"I've been better," Keyan said. His voice was thick with a rural Agamarian accent and he scratched at his light brown hair. "But I've been worse."

"Alive," Wedge chimed in as he rose his glass and took a sip.

"Alive," Keyan agreed and took a drink of his own glass, followed by his companion.

Luke felt his stomach sink deeper down his body. He was alive when so many were dead, not just Biggs. His uncle and aunt and been the first, their bodies charred and indistinguishable from each other as they lay where the stormtroopers had shot them. Obi-Wan was next, his mentor of only a day had filled his mind with lessons of the Force before being cut down by the same vile man that had murdered his father and shot down Biggs. He took the offered glass from Wedge and took a drink of the watered down liquor. "Alive."

"You look like you're sick of all the attention you're getting," Keyan's companion, who had introduced herself as Lynia, one of Mon Mothma's aides, said.   
Luke gave a half laugh. "You can say that again." He shook his head and a strand of his dark blonde hair fell into his eyes. "Everyone's calling me a hero just because I was the one who made the shot. It could have been Gold Leader, or Commander Dreis."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Wedge said. "You did your job."

"Who were they? The ones that I didn't get to know?"

"Good beings," Wedge said. "Some of the best that the Alliance had to offer."

"That's for sure," Keyan added.

"Jek Porkins, the burly one," Wedge began. He took a quick drink from his glass and refilled it. "One of the best dogfighters in the Rebellion. A good man, too, you just wouldn't want to be across the table from him in a Sabacc game." Wedge laughed at some distant memory. 

"I barely even got to say 'hello' to him," Luke said.

"That's war, Luke," the Agamarian pilot said. He looked down at his own glass with a somewhat far away stare. "You don't get know people half as well as you'd want to and when you do, they can still die."

"To Porkins." Wedge raised his glass and toasted to the memory of his friend. 

Luke took a sip of his drink before clearing his throat. "Biggs Darklighter was my one of my best friends growing up. He was always better at the rest of us when we were flying our speeders back home, and he let you know it, too. He wasn't bragging, though, not really. I always thought it was just his way of trying to get you to improve."

Wedge and Keyan both gave a slight laugh at that and nodded their heads. Biggs had always been one to make an impression on people quickly and his recent comrades were no exception.

"To Biggs," Luke toasted.

"I've lost more friends than I'd ever thought I had, but yesterday two of them died. Puck Naeco and Hamo Blastwell." Keyan reached up and massaged his forehead as Lynia gently placed an arm around him. "No one even saw what happened to Hamo, so I guess I'll drink to him."

The third pilot took a second to compose his thoughts. "Hamo wasn't just an instructor, he was a friend to everyone who knew him. You could go to him with your problems and he'd be there if he thought you had a problem." Keyan raised his glass slightly. "To Hamo," he toasted.

Luke took another drink to another man that he didn't know. Lynia had wrapped an arm around Keyan's shoulder to comfort him as he mourned the loss of a close friend. A strange sight caught his eyes for a fraction of a second as she toasted: the briefest hint of hesitation at the gesture before going through with the salute.

"I guess I'm the only one who hasn't said anything yet," Lynia said. "There was only one pilot up there that I really know, and he made it back." She took a drink from her nearly empty glass to steady her nerves. "My brother was a fighter pilot for the rebels before any of you joined up. Before there was even an Alliance, just the various cells across the galaxy. Mon Mothma had a small fleet that she kept hidden while she was still in the Senate. They were attacking an Imperial supply convoy when my brother got a TIE on his tail. He didn't make it back."

She wiped tears from her eyes and raised her glass as high as she could manage. "To Jabez." Luke could only stare as she quickly finished the rest of her drink before quickly heading away from the table.

"Um, I'd better go and make sure that she's okay," Keyan said. He looked back towards the direction that she had fled with a look of concern on his long face. "She really doesn't like talking about her brother. That's the first time I've heard all of it..."

Keyan walked quickly away from the table and towards where his companion had disappeared to, leaving Luke and Wedge alone at the table. "If you live for more than this battle, and from what I've seen you're a real Likely to Survive if I've ever seen one, remember that." Wedge pointed in the general direction of the two that had just left. "Years pass and it never gets easy."

Luke looked at the older pilot with a sober look on his face. "I will."

"At the same time, there'll be some that won't take kindly to you: a newcomer destroying that thing and living while so many people that they knew for years didn't make it back. It's just something that happens to new pilots, and I was no exception. Don't let it bother you, they'll come around."

When Luke left the table a few minutes later, he rolled the information and advice that Wedge had given him in his mind. The lift towards the top of the ancient temple moved slowly as his mind raced. 

The lift exited to the open air of Yavin 4, the burst of humidity of the jungle world hitting Luke in the face as he stepped out. The large gas giant that gave the moon its name loomed large in the night sky, casting a deep red-orange hue along the surface of the satellite while several of the planet's other moons showed as smaller dots in the sky. Tatooine's binary suns had been a common sight to him, having spend all of his life under the heat and brightness of those two stars, but the sight of Yavin and so many of its moons in space nearly took his breath away.

The burning piece of Death Star wreckage as it streaked through the moon's atmosphere caught his eye and he watched the impromptu meteorite before the friction dissolved it completely. They had struck a huge blow against the Empire yesterday, but they would be back. Maybe not soon, but the Rebel's hidden base had been discovered. For now, though, they were heroes, every one of them, even the dead. Biggs, Jek, Hamo, Jabez and the others killed yesterday joined with Uncle Owen, Aunt Beru and Obi-Wan in his mind as the true heroes, the ones that had died to get them where they were today. He stared out into space, towards the faint white cluster of stars that was the Galactic Core and knew that the war had just truly begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * According to Legend's sources, there were a few other pilots that survived the Battle of Yavin offscreen, and I actually started to write this while adding Rookie 1, Ru Murleen and Jake Farrell from Rebel Assault, but I jettisoned them early on because they'd take up far too much space.
> 
> * Keyan Farlander and Lynia Delline are from the X-Wing computer game and the prose sections of the strategy guides. His identity as the pilot in the lone surviving Y-wing is established there.
> 
> * According to the Luke Skywalker journal, he was the 37th person to suggest a memorial for the fallen pilots. The Darklighter comic had a small, temporary one just outside the main hall.
> 
> * Hamo Blastwell is another character from the X-wing guide. Lynia's hesitation at toasting is memory is very justified: she knows that he's still alive and headed to infiltrate the Empire. (As stated in the TIE fighter guide.)
> 
> * Lynia's brother was never named, nor was his fate actually known save that something must have happened while he was a fighter pilot for the rebels. I used a Greek name meaning "grief" for his name.
> 
> * The end of the story ties in directly with the Archie Goodwin comic "The Day After the Death Star."


	6. The Rising Threat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While training after recovering from her life threatening injuries, Lumiya finds herself far more alone than she believed.

The lone figure walked through the frozen waste, red hair flowing in the hyperborean breeze. Dark plasteel boots crunched through the accumulated snow and ice, leaving small footprints in their owner's wake. The path stretched for kilometers in the tundra, leading past cryogenically preserved trees that had died millennia previously and lakes that had not been liquid for even longer.

A small cave was ahead the tracks of its occupant's departure this morning partially obscured by the drifting snow. Next to a dying glowlamp was a raging fire that turned the area around the makeshift into a slushy mess. Near the fire was a small table containing a dark triangle trimmed with red and a scroll.

The young apprentice stepped into her home for the past month and removed the thickest layer of her protective clothing. Underneath the large parka, she wore a heavy padded jumpsuit designed to keep the body's heat inside. The sleeves of the jumpsuit had been removed, giving her arms freedom of movement. Her face was thin with a somewhat angular chin. From the left side of the chin was a large pink scar that stretched to the bottom of her ear, accompanied by a smaller one above her temple. In her bare hand was a small crystal, barely the size of the first knuckle on her finger. It glowed in the fire's light a vibrant green that matched its owner's eyes.

"Finally," the woman said. Her voice was calm despite her living conditions. Quick steps brought her to the table, where she sat. Slender hands picked up the large pyramid. She studied it for the briefest of seconds before placing it aside. As much wisdom was in the device it would provide no such knowledge today. The scroll, however.

Her eyes pored over the scroll, studying the words written in a tongue long since dead and known only by a select few, herself included amongst them. She reached into a small chest near the table and placed her finger upon lock. A small amount of static moved from the digit to the lock and then back before the top opened. She removed the sole item within and laid it upon the table.

It was a cylinder nearly 30 centimeters long, it's grey metal cold in the air. From an opening in one end was a long coil of Mandalorian iron that had been wrapped around the hilt of the whip. At the ends of the coil the strands separated and mingled with tendrils of supple nerf leather studded with sharp iron. It was weeks of work and study; a weapon that had existed only in ancient history and legend until now. It was her final test.

Impatient fingers opened the hilt of the whip, revealing the electronic workings of the interior. Everything was in its correct place: the power cell and conductor near the base of the hilt, energizers and wiring leading from where the metal rope began. The only thing missing was what she had in her hand. Upon her "exile" onto the old Sith homeworld of Ziost, her master had hidden the gem somewhere in the frozen wasteland for her to find.

The crystal fit perfectly into the sole void in the hilt. A small hum through the Force filled her mind as the work was done. She closed the hilt up and hefted the weapon into her hand. Three kilograms. The sensors in her prosthetic arms sent the exact weight of the weapon into her mind.

She walked into the tundra again, the cold wind barely registering to her. Eyes studied the weapon before she finally let the metal and leather coils touch the ground. Her thumb hovered over the ignition plate. The price of failure was fully inside of her mind, images of a power overload and resulting explosion flashing before her eyes. Through ravaged lungs assisted by a small respirator in her chest, she took a deep breath before finally pressing the dark button.

A serpentine length of yellow energy shot out of the emitter and ran close to the length of lightsaber-resistant metal. The hopeful Sith's mouth slowly curved upwards in a grin that revealed too-perfect teeth. Her arm moved up in a fluid movement, bringing the metal, leather and energy strands with it. The elbow rotated the arm before snapping forward, sending the three ends surging forward towards the branch of a dead tree.

The branch fell to the ground, the very end of the dead wood still glowing white hot where the energy blade had struck it. On the other end, the black bark had been stripped clean to the white wood flesh beneath. Shira Brie smiled as she viewed her handiwork. Her ticket off world had finally arrived.

Shira walked back to her camp, lightwhip placed upon her belt. Lord Vader had given her so few things when he had stranded her upon this planet: the Holocron that she had now packed into a storage crate, barely enough food and water to last a month, and just the basics of survival gear.

A wave of nausea and dizziness passed over her as she placed her crate onto the miniature repulsorsled. She leaned against the sled's handles to steady herself as her stomach purged the meager breakfast that she had eaten that morning. Her master, Darth Vader was... No. No, the presence that she felt deep into her very core was no longer Vader but... It couldn't happen, not to him.

The world exploded around her, bringing Shira Brie to her knees and involuntary tears to her eyes. The Force, which had always seemed so full of shadows and dimmed light seemed positively vibrant as it washed over her. Her eyes turned to a distant spot in the sky, so many light years away that the brightness of that star had just been shed when her Order had been at its very highest. Without seeing, she knew that the Emperor was dead and Darth Vader with him.

The lid of the crate flew off with a mental push that had meant to be simple but instead propelled the metal square meters away. An ungloved hand grabbed at the Holocron and her mind ripped the sides open.

A blue figure emerged from the pyramid and stood over her. His once red skin shone a darker shade than the armor that he wore. Fleshy tendrils drooped from his upper lip like an organic moustache. "What lessons do you require today, my apprentice?" The figure looked down upon her and sensed her despair. "I didn't imprint myself upon this to train weaklings." The image began to slowly fade.

"King Adas, wait." Her voice was weak and her will as frayed as the ends of her weapon. A simple exertion of will through the Force moved between herself and the Holocron. She wasn't as weak as he said and she knew it.

The image faded more. "Are you trying to do something, my pupil?" Shira cringed at the voice's mockery of her plight. She had the power to do what she wanted a more long ago only for it to be replaced by mere echoes. Her limbs, her jaw, several of her internal organs, all of it gone and taking that future away from her forever and it was all his fault. The very same presence that she had felt upon the deaths of the Emperor and her master and it was at his hands. The man that had left her floating in the void of space, slowly dying only to be replaced by this mockery of life. Skywalker. The very name repeating in her brain stoked the fire within her.

Adas' form solidified. "Good..." The spirit motioned towards the chair. "Have a seat if you wish, but ask what you must."

Shira Brie gazed into the eyes of the only teacher that she had left. "My master has died but not of my own hand. My training is incomplete and yet I am the only one of our order left."

"I will provide you no answers." Adas' voice echoed through the small cave. "Any answers you find will be your own, I can only guide you. First, tell me your name, pupil. What shall this Holocron call you?"

"Shira Brie."

"No!" She nearly flinched backwards at the long dead Sith's sudden outburst. "You have a system now that we never did. What did your master call you?"

"He said I must earn that name."

"Your master is dead and gone and you are the last. What is your name?"

Shira steeled herself and kneeled before the Holocron. "Lumiya."

"You say you are the last, Lumiya, but you must not remain the last for long."

"Two there should be; no more, no less. One to embody power, the other to crave it." Those were the first words that Darth Vader had spoken to her as she awoke in his medbay aboard the Executor. They were part of some code that the Sith followed, a master and an apprentice. She had been the apprentice of an apprentice and now the closest thing that there was to a living master in the galaxy. "I understand, Lord Adas."

"I have limited knowledge of this 'Rule of Two' doctrine that you spout, but in times of strife, discretion is wise. Leave this world and find an apprentice of your own."

Lumiya's rage sank. She didn't know anyone that would be a suitable apprentice. There had been hundreds of dark Jedi in the employ of the Emperor, but the majority had been far too powerful to even consider submitting to her limited knowledge. All of the others were too weak. Except for... The image of another entered her mind: a young man that Vader had hoped to pit against her to test their true potential. "Flint..." she said.

The form of Adas began to fade, a smile upon his face. "Find this Flint and begin your revenge, Lumiya. The Force shall free you."

Lumiya walked up to the extinguished Holocron and placed it back into its safe place in the storage crate. Her few belongings secure, she began her hike to the shuttle.

The Lambda-class shuttle sat a kilometer away from her camp site, the two wings upon its side folded up against the dorsal wing. The ramp below the slanted cockpit slowly opened as she approached, allowing a blocky humanoid droid to descend into the snow.

"You have decided that it is time to leave, Shira Brie?" The right arm of the droid ignited into a meter-long shaft of yellow energy. "You must prove yourself ready."

The nascent Sith removed the lightwhip from her belt and unfurled it before her. "My name is Lumiya." The energy whip flickered into existence.

"That is not a recognized weapon."

Lumiya's green eyes shined. "I know."

The droid moved quickly to close the distance between them, its right arm held close to its chassis in a classic guard position. Lumiya cracked her arm and sent the whip towards the droid. It rose its blade to meet the energy strand in a quick block, strands of leather falling from her weapon as they touched the opponent's blade. the screech of the metal coils sounded as she pulled the whip back towards her.

Twirling her wrist to keep the whip dancing in front of her as an impromptu shield, Lumiya shifted back a few meters to give her the distance she needed. Her opponent eagerly followed. The snap of a wrist sent the whip writhing forward, a move that the droid swiftly sidestepped.

With a scream, the cyborg twisted her body around, bringing the whip about sideways. The droid brought its blade up to block. "What?" The droid seemed surprised to see the Mandalorian iron coil itself around its blade and tightening with a simple move of Lumiya's wrist. She tugged as hard as she could, sending the blade spinning out of its hands. One more quick crack and the bisected droid fell to the ground.

The ramp closed behind Lumiya as she stepped into the shuttle's main cabin. Rows of empty seats flanked the large aisle leading to a pair of open doors in the bow of the ship. Red lighting shone through the doors, drawing her to them. The armory of the ship was mostly empty as she entered, the racks that lined the walls once filled with blaster rifles replaced with a single two meter tall closet.

A hologram came to life as she entered, the tall armor-clad visage of Darth Vader. The respirator in his chest sucked oxygen in and then forcefully exhaled it. His filtered voice spoke the last words of his that Lumiya would ever hear. "You have survived my test, pupil, and you have earned your name. Inside this chest is a gift for the occasion. You have earned that as well, but remember, you will never be a true Sith until my master is dead."

The closet on the wall opened and the glint of metal caught Lumiya's eyes. A suit of metal armor shone in the light of the armory, paired with a black undersuit laced with cortosis. A triangular headdress and scarf hung next to the suit.

The hologram of Vader continued on, telling her instructions that had been rendered obsolete an hour previously, as she stripped herself of her winter survival gear and replaced it with the armor. Piece by piece the trappings of Shira Brie fell to the floor and was replaced by her new identity. She ran prosthetic fingers along the scarring of her natural born skin that had been placed over an equally prosthetic jaw, feeling each ridge and valley over what had once been an attractive face. Her glove hand grabbed the loose edge of the scarf of her headdress and secured it to the other end.

She walked to the cockpit and warmed the shuttle's engines. Closing her eyes, she reached out through the Force, pulling the information that she wanted out of the ether. Vader's retreat on Vjun. She had trained at Bast Castle before and briefly after her injuries, recent times that felt like ages ago. Flint would return there from wherever he was, called to the same location by the Force just as she was.

 

There, on the acid rain soaked world, she would bend her former rival to her will. The thought warmed her as she steered the shuttle off of the ancient home of her kind. On Vjun they would plan their revenge against the rebels that wronged her. Leia Organa, Crix Madine, Mon Mothma; they would join Corwin Shelvay and Erling Tredway as rebels that were dead by her means. After all of this, after destroying everything that he had helped build, she would exact her final revenge upon Luke Skywalker...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * This is a sequel to Out of Fire, Out of Ice, another work I've done regarding Lumiya. 
> 
> * Lumiya was created in the original Marvel Star Wars series and first appeared in issue 56.
> 
> * The planet of Ziost has been called the Sith home world, as has Korriban. While I prefer Korriban as a planet, the frozen world was also quite fun to write in.
> 
> * Lumiya's training after her injuries was first mentioned in the 1995 Star Wars: Galaxy magazine article "Lumiya: Dark Star of the Empire." Though the planet she was on remained unnamed, it was also the first mention of how she created her iconic lightwhip. It would not be until a 2001 Star Wars Gamer article until Ziost would be named as the planet.
> 
> * Having a hand bare out in the frigid temperatures of Ziost is the first hint that Lumiya isn't as fully human as we may be led to believe. Indeed, the synthskin on her prosthetic arms doesn't really any danger of becoming frostbitten.
> 
> * An incorrectly built lightsaber (or lightwhip) in this case overloading and exploding comes from Kevin J. Anderson's young adult novel "Young Jedi Knights: Lightsabers".
> 
> * The multiple elements of Lumiya's lightwhip (the energy ribbon, Mandalorian iron chain-rope and the studded leather) really makes it far more versatile than, say, Githany from Jedi vs. Sith and her energy only lightwhip.
> 
> * The idea that Vader essentially stranded Lumiya on Ziost was an idea of my own. In my opinion, it fit very heavily into the Sith philosophy of "only the strong survive."
> 
> * I had to be very, very vague in regards to time, especially in the single year that separates Empire and Jedi. Having two different versions in Marvel Star Wars and Shadows of the Empire that barely mesh together to begin with makes it a lot more difficult, especially when there's another in-progress work of mine that is very indirectly tied in with Lumiya.
> 
> * I wondered how Lumiya would feel, if at all, the redemption of Darth Vader. I decided to have it make her physically ill as a good starting point, followed by how alien the sensation of a redeemed Anakin Skywalker alive in the galaxy, if only for a few minutes. Followed up by the outright slam that is the most powerful dark side user that has possibly ever existed, it would have to be an intense experience that I wish on no one. Which is why I had her panic at the thought of being the last Sith in the galaxy, and a barely trained one at that.
> 
> * Lumiya's sudden rage at the mere thought of what Luke Skywalker had cost her is, in my opinion, one of her sole motivations for everything that she would do later on.
> 
> * While Lumiya gained her name at the end of my last story about her, I wanted to show that she hadn't fully embraced that new identity. Until now.
> 
> * Lord Adas was one of the most powerful pureborn Sith of his day, living before the birth of the Republic and was responsible for the overthrowing of the Sith's Rakatan overlords, at the cost of his own life.
> 
> * Flint is also another creation of Marvel Star Wars. 
> 
> * The lightsaber training droid is meant to be the same type of combat droid found in the Jedi Academy game, slightly modified.
> 
> * The lightwhip disarming the droid with the metal coil is another one of the advantages that the weapon has over traditional lightsabers. The downside is also shown in the fight, as Lumiya must stay far enough away in order to give the whip clearance to swing.
> 
> * It was also never said how Lumiya got her armor, as she was shown to be relatively whole in the pictures of her recovery. A graduation present from Darth Vader seemed as plausible as anything.
> 
> * Corwin Shelvay and Erling Tredway are West End Games characters. Lumiya's encounters with them stem from another RPG article by the same author of the one in Gamer #5. In a mission from an interactive VCR board game, Shira Brie and Kyle Katarn join the two to disable the Death Star II's tractor beam. Since the game had a traitor in the midst and only Shira and Kyle are ever mentioned again, I decided that it would be interesting for Shira to join her master and covertly kill the other two.


	7. Han Solo and the Ash Beast of C1930

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After running afoul of an Imperial patrol craft, Han and Chewie are forced down onto an uncharted planet, but they aren't alone...

Chewbacca roared out a warning as the sirens and whistles aboard the Bria joined the orchestra.

"I know, I know!" Han Solo silenced the screaming klaxons with the press of a button. Blaster fire from nearly two dozen laser cannons filled the stars in front of the SoroSuub freighter. "I'm going to try and get us out of here." 

The smuggler looked at the sensor screen in front of him as he grabbed the controls of his ship. The craft behind them was large, nearly ten times the length of the Falcon. It was a sleek series of rounded rectangles that travelled down from a huge bank of two large engines with six smaller ion turbines flanking them. A Tartan-class patrol ship, Han identified it from his days in the Imperial Navy. It was an older craft that had been pressed into service against smugglers such as himself, and more than a match for a standard light freighter.

Despite her numerous flaws, the Bria wasn't a standard light freighter.

The freighter spun on its axis to avoid the deluge of green laser. The few that managed to breach the kilometers of distance between the two craft and hit the Bria jostled the occupants in their crash restraints. Another warning sound blared through the cockpit as the ship's computer registered minor hull damage near one of the exhaust vents on the bow of the vessel.

"Chewie, put all shields to rear!" Han's Wookiee copilot roared in response, his hairy hands moving over the controls in front of him. The human smuggler winced as another blast hit the craft and the report of an engine failure. "Shug's going to be spaced about this, he just fixed that damn thing..."

Chewbacca growled out a suggestion, pointing towards the forested planet below. Another salvo of laser cannon shredded the first layer of deflector shielding apart.

"You got it, Chewie. Let's see if those things still can't work in atmosphere." Han kicked the throttle as Chewbacca transferred the weapon's power to the clunking engines. The patrol cruiser followed, firing several parting shots as the freighter hit atmostphere.

The superhot engines flamed into life as the freighter hit atmosphere, the blunt and rounded bow of the ship leaving trails of black smoke in the sky behind it. Inside of Starmite's cockpit, Han and Chewie worked desperately. 

"Chewie, cut fuel to the number three engine!" The Wookiee complained, throwing one of his fur covered arms up into the air.

"We'd need a hell of a lot more if that fire goes up to the tanks!"

Chewbacca considered the risks of crashing against the fear of exploding in mid air and quickly cut the fuel to the burning engine. He grumbled again.

"Just hang on, Chewie," Han responded. Hands flew over the controls, firing thrusters and repulsors as he adjusted the throttle of his ship. Below the Bria, the planet's many trees reached up as if to drag the winged craft to the ground to join them.

"See that plateau?" Han pointed to a large outcropping still scarred from an apparently recent forest fire. Ash-covered fallen trees lay on the desolate soil, overturned and with their leaf-less branches swaying in a slight breeze. The Bria slowed as much as Han risked as the craft approached the ground. The landing gear hit the ground, sending a jolt through the craft before the moving freighter bumped back into the air. Han fired the retro thrusters and pushed the nose of the craft down once again. The Bria crawled to a stop on the dark ground.

"Sometimes, Chewie, I even surprise myself!" Han leaned back in his chair and pantomimed placing his feet on the console.

Chewbacca roared out a quick response and stood from his chair, the Wookiee's two meter height causing him to nearly brush the top of his head against the cockpit's ceiling. Han sat up and threw his arms wide. "C'mon, Chewie, we're just lucky to have the ship in one piece right now!" The sound of a light panel in the ship's galley collapsing to the ground echoed through the hull. "Mostly one piece."

Han checked the ship's sensor scope before leaving the cockpit. All around the crashed freighter was the emptiness of a clear sky. The Imperial cruiser that had caused their predicament nowhere to be seen. "Well, there is that..."

A large line of dark smoke rising into the air was the first thing that Han saw as he stepped foot off of the ship's ramp. The billowing path began hundreds of meters away from their landing zone and extended upwards to the horizon. Han climbed up onto the hull and walked over to the engine housing. Chewbacca was already there, the Wookiee as close to the still warm engine as he dared.

"What do you think, Chewie?" Han looked over the damage himself: the top of the SoroSuub craft was pitted with ashen grey carbon scores with minimal real damage to the hull. They'd have to be scraped clean eventually, Han thought as he gauged the depth and then wiped the dark soot onto his vest, but they weren't the real problem with the ship.

He walked up behind Chewbacca and felt the latent heat of the cooling engines upon his skin, the sweat breaking to his skin. The third engine had taken a direct hit just outside of its casing, mangled metal still glowing in the afternoon sun expanded outward and peeled back like a musa fruit. "This is not good..." Chewbacca roared in agreement. Han walked across the top of the vessel again, reaching the hand rungs that led down to the ground. "Might as well wait a bit. We can't do anything until it's cooled down."

The two sat at the table in the common section of the ship, pouches of heated ready rations in front of them. "I'm telling you, Chewie, that's not a good idea." Han pointed the rectangular stick of dried fruit paste at his copilot. "There's no way that I'm going risk making an enemy out of Black Sun."

Chewbacca bit deeply into a large piece of dried meat and gestured towards the cargo bay in the rear of the ship. The Wookiee grumbled out his case.

"You've heard of how Black Sun deals with people that rip them off, Chewie! If we take one of those engines that we're carrying and use it to get off of this rock, they'd kill us where we stood, even if we did give them a discount!"

Chewbacca shook his head, the mane of fur around his neck flowing. The Wookiee grumbled.

"No matter how fair Vigo Tap'le is supposed to be, Chewie, she's still Black Sun." Han drank heavily from his glass. "If it's our only way off of this planet, it's the only way, I get that." He looked outside the viewport and watched as the blue sun sat in the distance. "We'll go out there to tomorrow and see if we can manage to repair it with what we have."

Chewbacca nodded in agreement as he ripped off another large section of dried meat.

"I'll take first watch, tonight, Chewie." Han replaced the last of his meal in the pouch. "I don't think those Tartan's have shuttles, but I don't want to take any chances." He exited the freighter through its top docking hatch, walking onto the slightly curved hull and over to the flattened tail. 

The sky outside was a brilliant purple tinged with soft undertones of orange-pink on the horizon. The brighter stars that were visible in the twilight sky shined and blinked. Han removed the drink pouch from his ration pack and took a sip of the water. In his six years of being a spacer he had seen numerous sites in the galaxy that could be considered beautiful: various nebulae throughout uncounted systems, the radiation storms of Vallejo Prime, and the random chaos that was the Roche asteroid field. This unnamed and relatively uncharted planet happened upon by chance was added to the already long list.

The snap of dry tinder in the distance broke the smuggler out of his boredom induced daze hours later. Han gazed into the dark wasteland, heavy blaster pistol raised in alarm. The moonless night gave off a minimum of light, turning every fallen tree into some shadowy creature that waited to pounce.

Han brushed that thought out of his mind as an old instinct that humanoids had evolved millions of years ago to warn them of predators in the night. There was nothing in the area that was there to hurt him, he thought. His vision moved from side to side, from tree to tree, from darkness to shiny red eyes in the dark...

Han fumbled with his vest pocket for his field lamp, quickly turning the beam towards the sinister looking crimson eyes. He caught the glimpse of tawny fur before the creature retreated back into the darkness. Han laughed at himself and put his blaster away. "Jumping at some animal." 

He sat back down on the freighter's hull and pulled out a ration to take his mind off of the creature. It was likely some harmless creature wondering what a giant shiny thing was doing in its territory. He took a bite out of the compressed grain bar and kept his eyes on the sky. If the Tartan was still up there in orbit, Han certainly wasn't able to see the large dot moving across the night sky that would be his only visual cue.

A soft growl sounded somewhere from Han's left. The spacer quickly threw his field lamp's beam that way and saw the creature stalking him. It was feline in shape, a quadruped stalking the ship on lean, muscular legs with a mouth filled with two rows of sharp teeth. Han fired a quick shot at the feline and missed, the red bolt of energy going wide and sending a large explosion of dirt and ash into the air. 

The large cat hissed away from the shot and disappeared once again into the darkness. Silence followed; so deep that Han's ears rang as they tried to pick up anything. The smuggler slowly replaced his field light into his vest pocket and picked up his comlink. "Chewie, wake up."

Chewbacca's response through the comlink was loud compared to the Han's soft request. "There's something out here and it's not friendly." The Wookiee growled out an annoyed question. "I want you to get out here and help me. This thing's stalking me all around the ship."

Chewbacca appeared from the top hatch of the Bria a minute later, bandolier slung somewhat haphazardly around his shoulder and bowcaster at the ready, a curved rykk blade hanging from the back. The Wookiee growled at Han, voice rumbling.

"I'm not jumping at shadows, Chewie. There's this cat creature out there and it looks hungry."

The Wookiee grumbled and pointed off into the night. Han obeyed his friend and co-pilot's suggestion and shone the light from his field lamp in that direction. The snap of a dead twig in the opposite direction brought the field light's beam quickly over there, catching a sight of the light fur before the creature stalked off into the darkness again.

Chewbacca slowly climbed down the handholds on the side of the ship and pulled the curved blade from its scabbard upon his back. Han raced to the very edge of the ship, field lamp reflecting off of the blade's surface. "Chewie, what are you doing?" The Wookiee let loose a few short grumbles and continued on his way. "I can see that you're hunting it. Why?" Chewbacca growled aloud that it was because of a certain smuggler was keeping him awake.

His large feet crunching almost unnoticed in the ash-covered ground, Chewbacca brandished his blade and walked into the group of fallen trees where the predacious feline was last seen. The Wookiee soon disappeared into the darkness.

Silence followed for a minute, ear splitting silence as Han listened for any trace of his friend in the darkness. A smack of wood on wood shattered the reticence, followed by the feline's deep growl. Chewbacca roared in defiance of the creature. Branches snapped and cries of pain mingled in the night until all was still again.

"Chewie!" Han called out, blaster and field light aimed where the sounds of combat had been.

A soft rumbled answered Han as Chewbacca stepped into the light. The Wookiee's fur across his chest was matted with already clotting blood, the dead feline slumped across his broad shoulders. Chewie growled at Han to get down from the top of the ship and open up the ramp.

"What are you going to do with that thing?" Han called out. Chewie replied with a bellow that it was a gift for his beloved Malla back on Kashyyyk.

***

"I hate to say it, Chewie, but I think you're right." Han Solo sat once again on the top of his ship, staring at the busted engine. The blaster shot that had managed to break through the majority of the ship's shields had caused major damage to the interior of the engine and its mount. "We've got that loader droid that Shug let us borrow for the trip, so it can help us fix this."

Chewbacca snarled about Black Sun.

"Hey, pal, if worse comes to worse, this was all my idea, all right?"

 

The halls of Vigo Tap'le's headquarters were filled with music. Sounds from various cultures and creeds across the galaxy were played as Han and Chewbacca approached the main meeting hall.

Tap'le sat at a desk made from a rare wood from her homeworld of Clak'dor VII that had been made before the destructive war that had broken out nearly three centuries previously. "Greetings, Solo and Chewbacca." Her voice had a certain melodic hint to it as she shook her bulbous head. "My technicians told me that you had an interesting request for them in my hangar bay."

Han looked at the crime lord at her desk, eyes unconsciously at the stylized flaming star on the banners flanking her. "Well, Vigo Tap'le, we ran into a little bit of trouble on the way here."

Her black eyes stared holes into Solo. "A 'little bit of trouble' is what you call this? Your freighter pulls into my headquarters with five of the six engines that I was expecting, and then you order my personal technicians to remove one of your own?" Several of the courtiers, fellow Bith, humans, cat people and the customary Rodians, murmured to themselves and backed away slowly to the wall. "You will explain yourself..."

Han discovered that his mouth had gotten extremely dry sometime between stepping in her office. "We arrived at a waypoint I use to get here and there's an Imperial ship waiting there. I don't know how they found out about it, but they're there. They open fire and we take a bunch of hits while trying to get away." Han explained the rest.

"I hear nothing but excuses, Solo." Tap'le made a gesture to her court. "These beings here know what happens to beings that make nothing but excuses." The court began to jeer at Han, cursing him in a dozen languages. "I needed someone to bring me six engines for my fleet. Brand new engines direct from Sullust and you bring me only five and one that you used yourself.

"You stole from me, Solo, you and your copilot. I can't stand beings that steal from me, but I will give you a second chance, due to the circumstances as it were."

"I've already spent the advance on fuel for the trip, Vigo," Han said. "If you want what's left of it, I can siphon it out for you. Keep what we agreed on the credits here, as well."

Tap'le pressed a finger to the skin flaps under her large eyes. "A good start," she said. "Though you may keep what fuel you have left." Those eyes brightened in the light of the room. "My crew droids noticed a fur being processed in the hold, as well. A very rare-looking one as well."

"It's yours." Chewbacca roared at Han's offering. "Take it easy, buddy, I can drop you off to get another one anytime." With a slight grumble, the Wookiee conceded. 

"Another good start." The Bith crime lord's already large eyes widened significantly, the very vision of her sending chills down Han's spine.

"Look, that's all I can give you," Han said. "I don't have much more left."

"Your ship, Captain Solo..."

Han's face became durasteel. "You're not taking the Bria, and that's final."

The facial folds on the crime lord's face opened up in what Han assumed was a smile. "I'm not talking about for keeps, Solo, though that thought has occurred to me." Tap'le drummed her fingers on her desk in time with the music being played through speakers.

"What you will do is to ferry some very important goods for me from here to Nal Hutta." She pointed to a Rodian standing at the side of her conference room. "Harmo here will go with you. To insure that nothing untoward happens this time."

Han swallowed deeply as the armored Rodian neared them. "I'll prepare him a bunk," he said with a forced smile.

"Good." Tap'le's facial folds parted widely, filling the smuggler with another sense of dread. "The crates will be loaded shortly, and you'll find your wayward engine repaired." The alien smiled widened even further. "There'll be another favor owed for that..."

Han Solo said the customary goodbyes and thank you's and walked with Chewbacca and Harmo back to the Bria. Tap'le's crew already taking the borrowed engine mounting off of the SoroSuub-crafted freighter. "Well, Chewie," he said as they walked up the ramp. "That could have ended a whole lot worse."


	8. The Rain Soaked Reign

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finishing her Sith training on Ziost and the deaths of Darth Vader and the Emperor, the Dark Lady of the Sith, Lumiya, heads to Vjun to cement her rule as the reigning Sith in the galaxy. Another pupil of Vaders, however, has aspirations of his own.

Darth Vader's castle rose upward from the rocks of Vjun, a round durasteel shell with a large spire extending nearly 100 meters into the air.  Kilometers away, the windows of her shuttlecraft constantly peppered by the acidic rain, Lumiya could feel the strength of the dark side around the fortress.  On the huge landing pad in front of the keep, another Imperial shuttle sat docked.  Flint had already arrived.

"You won't find what you really need here, Shira."  The light voice echoed behind her, cloaked in an accent that was angrily familiar.

She closed her green eyes and focused on her anger and rage.  No spirit would dissuade her.  "I've told you to leave me."

The spectral blue figure moved beside her, clad in a light tan tunic and wrapped in a brown robe.  Light brown hair fell across his strong jaw, the spiritual remains of a scar above his right eye.  "Not until I've made amends.  I steered you down the wrong path, Shira, but it's not too late to come back.  Look at me."

"You named me Lumiya," she said with a growl.  "You named me and you trained me and there is nothing to 'amend', Vader!"  She turned around and directed a blast of Force energy towards the ghost.  The shuttle rocked as the wave passed straight through him.

"You can't kill me, Shira," Anakin said.  "I'm already dead."

"Then be a good corpse and shut up."

The consistency of the spirit began fading away.  "We all have to make our own decisions, Shira.  I made mine, and you have to make yours."

Her attention returned to the controls of her shuttle as Vader's spirit left her alone.  He had appeared once before, on the first night after she left Ziost, begging and pleading with her like a weakling to return to the light.  She had ignored him them, tossing and turning in her cot while pretending the whole while to not hear his words.  Eventually he must have bored himself and left.

The shuttle sat down next to the other landing craft on the pad.  Lumiya walked down the ramp of the vessel, pulling the Force within her to provide a bubble of protection against the rain that fell in puddles around her.  The large durasteel double doors of the palace rose above her, all five meters of the height filled with intricate carvings of Sith runes.

She focused upon the seams of the doors, the Force substituting for her metallic fingers as it locked against both sides of the entrance.  With a rending gesture and far more effort through the Force that she would have liked to admit, the two doors separated enough for her to enter.

Metal boots echoed down the long hallways of the abandoned palace as Lumiya headed to the central room of the castle.  Her eyes were closed, focusing on the Force and the other life that she felt.

The final door opened into a large chamber several meters long and at least two stories tall.  A transparisteel window spanned the length and height of the opposite wall, the setting Vjun sun shining through.  A large statue of Darth Vader himself stood larger than the Sith Lord had ever stood in life, or death.  A black fabric cape fluttered in the small breeze of the environmental controls, covering the dark material that made the statue itself.

A cloaked figure stood in front of the stature, gazing up at the perfect likeness.  "I expected you to come here, Shira."  The man never moved and continued his vigil.  "Were you called here as I was?  It was like a beacon of the dark side itself that brought me here."

"Shira is dead, Flint."  Lumiya undid the fabric veil across her face, exposing the red scars on her jaw.  "I am called Lumiya now."  She expected Flint to correct her, telling her to call him by some other title and renouncing his birth name just as she had just done.  He was the whelp of a Jedi who had sired him upon some wench grateful for the liberation of her planet.  By the time that Flint was born, the Jedi was long gone, having left and did what Jedi did best during the Clone Wars: be killed.

"They're both gone," was the only thing that Flint said.  "Vader, the Emperor.  Both dead."

"We're the only ones left, then," Lumiya said.  " 'Only two shall there be.  One to embody power and the other to crave it.'" 

Flint pulled the cloak's hood off of his head, freeing his short black hair and turned to face Lumiya.  A gasp nearly escaped her lips as she saw the glint of gray metal armor underneath his robe.  Flint was young, barely out of his teens.  His blue eyes drilled through her defenses as he shrugged the robe off of himself. 

"Who do you have in mind being the one embodying power, then?"  With one hand, he gestured towards the base of the statue, calling an old-styled helmet to his hands.  It was a sleek oval with a large visor divided by a metal beam crossing over the nose.  Two horns pointed downwards on both sides.  Flint pulled the helmet over his head, sealing it to the rest of his armor with a hissing click.

Lumiya secured the veil back to her large headdress and removed the lightwhip from her belt.  With a flip of a wrist, the lengths of Mandalorian iron and studded leather straps uncoiled themselves on the floor.  "Me," she said.  She swung her arm around, gathering momentum for the whip as she thumbed the ignition switch.  A separate strand of energy sprang from the emitter, just as flexible as the other components of the whip. 

Flint dodged her first attack, any surprised on his face well concealed by his helm.  A red beam of energy emerged from the hilt of his own blade.  He stood well outside of her reach, dodging back with every single shuffle forward that she made.  The statue of their mutual master stood over the fight, Flint maneuvering around to use the large legs and base to limit the lightwhip.

A snarl escaped from Lumiya's lips as Flint ducked a shortened crack of the whip, the strand of iron carving a scar into the statue's legs.  She closed some of the distance, flexing her wrist and sending a wave of momentum through the whip's length.  The studded end of one of the several leather strands snapped upwards, catching Flint's cape and shredding it off of him.

The male dark Jedi made his move, the Force screaming as he jumped at a height that no normal human could muster and land on the base.  He rebounded off of the stone, bringing his blade down towards Lumiya in an overheard arc.  She sidestepped the maneuver, bringing a hand up and shoving towards his back.  The Force added to Flint's own momentum, sending him tumbling to the ground. 

Lumiya didn't relent and brought her whip up and around her head and then out.  The serpentine energy blade lashed away from her and coiled around her opponent's armored calf.  The armor groaned in resistance to the energy beam wrapped around it, hissing and burning.  With a tug, Flint was thrown back onto his stomach, the energy snake loosening.  Lumiya snarled in anger.  Phrik.  If it would have been made of plain durasteel, the armor would have given way and the flesh and bone underneath it along with it.  Like her own armor, it had been made of a lightsaber resistant alloy that only served to prolong the fight.

"Give up, Flint, I'm already more powerful that you ever will be!"  She swung the lightwhip down, the metal cable slamming forcefully down onto the floor where Flint had been just a second previously.The dark Jedi kipped up, throwing his legs up and using that momentum to regain his footing.  He raced towards his opponent, leaping over a weak side arc and closing fast.  Lumiya raced her empty palm towards him and could feel the Force begin to gather around his free hand as he moved to counter the push.  Lumiya focused upon the Force, calling it not to slam into Flint, but to move the hidden switch deep inside of her prosthetic hand.  An orange beam of energy fired from the concealed blaster in her palm, slamming into and through the armor's breastplate.

The dark Jedi kipped up, throwing his legs up and using that momentum to regain his footing.  He raced towards his opponent, leaping over a weak side arc and closing fast.  Lumiya raced her empty palm towards him and could feel the Force begin to gather around his free hand as he moved to counter the push.  Lumiya focused upon the Force, calling it not to slam into Flint, but to move the hidden switch deep inside of her prosthetic hand.  An orange beam of energy fired from the concealed blaster in her palm, slamming into and through the armor's breastplate.

Flint slammed to the ground hard, lightsaber deactivating as it rolled away to the base of the statue of Darth Vader.  Lumiya dropped her own lightwhip, and pointed both palms towards her injured opponent.  "There's two of them, now yield!"  The helmed head nodded in agreement.

Lumiya stood, her tired body radiating with satisfaction.  Flint rose to his knees and raised the helmet from his head.  Sweat dripped down his brow and further still, dripping to the durasteel floor below him.  "I pledge myself to your teachings," he panted.

The Dark Lady of the Sith removed her veil and headdress, the still original portions of her face flushed red from exertion.  "I shall teach and you shall learn," she said.  The words mimicked what Adas' holocron had said to her during her learning expedition to the Sith world of Ziost.  Her footsteps took her to the large window overlooking a gigantic canyon.  Flint followed her, retrieving his lightsaber and placing it upon his belt.  Lumiya sensed the movement and allowed him to approach.  He wouldn't betray her yet, not when he had just been so thoroughly humiliated.

"The rebels believe that they have won," she said.  "They must continue under that illusion until we're ready."

"Yes, Master," Flint replied.  His tone was even, accepting of her authority. 

The sun had completely set beyond the dark clouds on the horizon, casting the darkness of night throughout the valley below.  "I will head to Coruscant and acquire the ships that we'll need."  She turned to her apprentice.  "As for you, stay here and train until I return.  Vader had a Holocron here when I was training, it should still be here."

Flint walked away, headed for the living quarters of the fortress.  Lumiya walked back to the large statue of the former owner of the fortress, gazing towards his mask.  "You have regrets, do you, Master?"  She laughed, adding to her already mocking tone.  "I have them, too, and unlike you I will rectify them.  Your precious son will die by my hand."  Her artificial arms clutched at her replaced legs, metal jaw clenching tightly.  "And I will pay him back in full for what he did to me."


	9. ANH Infinities: Rebirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the execution of Mon Mothma, Admiral Ackbar has some very difficult decisions to make.

Gial Ackbar could only stand and watch as his long time ally died.  The Mon Calamari admiral stood in front of the HoloNet receiver as the Emperor announced the sentence and remained silent as he watched the dark-armored demon that was Darth Vader approach Mon Mothma.  A collective gasp reverberated through the room as the red-bladed lightsaber sliced through her neck and the gathered crowd at the Coruscanti execution site cheered.

His offset eyes never left the screen even as Darth Vader held the severed head aloft for the assembled crowd and the entire galaxy to see.  The Emperor cackled on, boasting to the crowd once again that this was the only result of resistance.  When the broadcast ended, Ackbar finally allowed himself to turn around.

Mon Mothma had been a force in the Rebellion, one of the three main drivers that unified the various resistance groups into a central Alliance to Restore the Republic.  It was her starfighters that had freed him from a life of slavery under the heels of Grand Moff Tarkin.  And now she had joined Bail Organa in whatever lay beyond the other shore.

Ackbar turned to his crew.  They wore outward the same emotions and feelings that he was doing his best to hide.  Slumped down into their chairs, head facing the floor, they appeared as if their entire spawn pool had been wiped out.  He walked over to his communications officer, the young Mon Cal that had never known life before the Empire had taken over but had joined their cause anyway.  He laid a flippered hand across the lad's shoulder. 

"Contact the captains in the fleet," Ackbar ordered.  His own gravelly voice was low with grief.  "Tell them to meet with me tomorrow aboard _Home One_."

The officer wordlessly nodded and complied.  "And get me the other admirals: Drayson, Burke, Krane, Wentlas and Toka."  Ackbar paused for the briefest of moments, another name edging from his brain to his thick tongue.  The man had left the Alliance just recently, suspicious of the way that he felt that Mon Mothma was leading them.  Ackbar cleared his throat.  "And get me Bel Iblis..."

The fleet's seven captains sat in the main briefing room of _Home One_ , each of the over half dozen Mon Calamari deep into their own grief and show.  They sat silently in the front row of the semi-circular amphitheater, barely even looking at each other. 

Ackbar walked into the briefing room, ignoring the common naval tradition of having his arrival announced.  His captains straightened as he entered, sitting at attention.  Ackbar could name every single one of the captains and had known the majority of them since the Clone Wars, when the Quarren Isolation League had attempted their coup upon the two species' mutual home planet.  Already he could estimate where each of them stood on the matter: Ackyos would recommend caution bordering on non-commitment while Seekara already had his small, winged MC80 ready for all out war.

"Captains, I know that all of you have seen the latest developments on the HoloNews, but I will reiterate.  Operation Skyhook, though successful in retrieving the plans for the Death Star has failed in its secondary objective: destruction of the base itself.  In battle over our base on the fourth moon of Yavin, our starfighters failed to exploit the weakness found.  The base was destroyed by the Death Star and numerous Alliance personnel captured, including Mon Mothma and Princess Leia Organa."

The looks on the faces of the assembled captains showed him that they had all heard and seen this information before.  The best that he could do, however, was to finish and squash any scuttlebutt that had no doubt been spreading like Siacarp aboard all of their ships.  "Organa appears to be a political prisoner of the Emperor and Darth Vader, judging by the HoloNet footage.  Mon Mothma has been executed, along with Jan Dodonna, Vanden Willard and others."  Ackbar paused and surveyed his captains.  "Are there any questions?"

Kalback stood.  "What are we going to do about the Empire?"

Ackbar nodded at the captain, the spines on his chin jiggling with the movement.  "I have contacted the other admirals in the Alliance to gauge their own feelings.  By the end of this week, I'll be able to see what kind of resistance we will be able to put up."

"You mean to keep fighting?" Ackyos asked.

Ackbar stood resolute.  "I mean to never have the yoke of slavery around the neck of any of our kind again.  The people of Dac have already earned their freedom from the Empire, paid in their blood, and I would die before the Empire ever takes our world back."  Even the most cynical of Ackbar's captains couldn't help but cheer.  "Nor would I allow any other sentient being to suffer under such a cruel fate."  He turned to his captains.  "I want to know if you and your ships are with me.  We may have to go back to just hitting supply convoys and small fleets before fading away, but we will keep fighting."

Ackbar paced around the blank holoemitter.  "I won't lie and say that this won't be far more dangerous than what we've been doing.  No being aboard any of the ships in my fleet will be forced to fight with us.  Go to your crews and tell them what I mean to do.  All those that wish to step away will be allowed to leave and transportation will be provided to the nearest inhabitable planet."

The hot springs inspired aquarium inside of Ackbar's quarters provided the stressed admiral only a modicum of relief.  He reclined in the water, neck just above the top as his submerged lower body undulated just enough to keep his head above water.  The captains in the meeting had all looked up to him, thinking that his renowned tactical genius would allow him to pull the struggling Alliance back together and achieve the righteous victory that they all knew he was capable of.  Ackbar allowed his head to go under the waterline and breathed deeply into the oxygen rich water.  The truth was that he was the commander in name only of a group of demoralized and near breaking beings that stood against an Empire that had just achieved a major victory both militarily and publically.

Most of his own fleet's crew had elected to stay and fight, each of them knowing the full evils of the Empire during their subjugation and enslavement of their kind, but Ackbar had no idea what the others would say.  Wentlas' fleet was the one that worried him the most.  Made up mostly of Alderaanians, the majority of his captains and crew had been struck by tragedy twice in the span of a month.  The destruction of their homeworld combined with Mothma's death would galvanize some, but would cause others to simply give up.  The next few days, as each of the admirals that he contacted would poll their own crew, would be the most critical.

"Admiral, we've gotten word from Senator Bel Iblis."  The words sounded from his personal com, forcing Ackbar's head above the water. 

"Let the Senator know that I am on my way!"  The admiral pulled himself out of his aquarium and dressed in his water resistant uniform before leaving for the communications room.

Former Republic and Imperial Senator Garm Bel Iblis stood in holographic form as Ackbar arrived.  The Corellian human was tall, with graying hair that went past his shoulders.  "Admiral Ackbar, it's good to be able to speak with you again," Bel Iblis said.  "Especially in such trying times."

"I know how you felt about Mon Mothma, Senator, but allow me to express my condolences at the death of another member of the triumvirate."

Bel Iblis gave a weary smile and nodded.  "I was worried that Mon Mothma would overthrow the Empire only to set herself up as Empress when it was all over, but I still mourn her loss.  No one should have to die that way."

"I got in contact with the rest of our fleet, Senator.  The admirals are willing to fight, but it's up to their captains and crews."

Bel Iblis's legs moved as if he were pacing wherever the human was.  "And you're here to ask me to lend my support?"

Ackbar straightened.  "Yes.  The corvettes and frigates you have would make an excellent addition to our forces."

A sigh escaped from Garm's lips.  "Gial, you've been a friend to all of us in the Alliance ever since you joined us."  The senator shook his head strongly.  "The time for centralizing our forces is over.  You've seen Princess Organa at the side of the Empire, who knows what secrets she's divulged to them."

"I cannot believe that the Princess would turn traitor."

"Believe it or not, but take precautions against it.  She's still alive while Mon Mothma and several of our generals aren't and I can't fathom why."

Ackbar lowered his head, the truth of the words a dagger inside of his heart.  "We'll have to change our rendezvous points, then.  The Princess knows them."

"It's time to go back to hit and run attacks, Gial.  We'll get another shot at this, I can feel it in my gut.  Until then, it's time to lay low.  May the Force be with, admiral."

***

"I have spoken with Senator Garm Bel Iblis, admirals, and he has advised us to lay low."  The gathered holographic images of the admirals murmured around the central dais where Ackbar stood.

"What are we going to do?" Toka said from his Mon Calarami cruiser in orbit above Talay.

"Go back to the hit and run attacks like you said?"  Admiral Drayson said, the balding Chandrillian had a surprised look upon his face.

"As the closest thing that the Alliance has to a leader," Ackbar said.  He slumped slightly and rubbed at his sloped forehead.  "I am hereby disbanding the Alliance to Restore the Republic."  The murmurs graduated to outright pandemonium as every admiral took the bad news their own way.

"You will go back to your home systems if you wish, and wait until the time is right."

"And what about us, Admiral?"  Galen Wentlas's Coruscanti-accent was tinged from decades of living on Alderaan.  "I've got 5,000 people in my fleet that don't have homes to go to, thanks to the Empire."

"You may go to your home systems or you may continue the fight in your own way," Ackbar continued.  "My own fleet will keep fighting, and it's your own decision to do so or not."  He looked over the other admirals.  "The Empire is powerful, far more than we were able to predict, but it will fall and we will one day return the Republic to power, but it's not today."

The meeting ended an hour later, each of the admirals predictably deciding to remain fighting on their own terms.  Ackbar fell into his command chair as the last holographic image faded.  He had been in the galaxy for four decades, middle-aged for his species, but he suddenly felt twice that age.

"Admiral, are you all right?"  Captain Seldoon was beside him, followed closely by an aide.

"I'm just tired, captain, that's all."  Ackbar stood up and walked out of the office and onto the bridge of his flagship.  "Take us to the Dac system," he told the helmsman, who immediately began running the fleet's navicomputer to calculate the jump.  "Captain, I want you to find beings who know Imperial shipping routes near Jabiim, we'll strike there first."

"Aye, admiral!"  Seldoon walked off of the bridge as Ackbar gazed out the viewport.  One by one, the ships in his fleet accelerated to lightspeed before the stars elongated in front of him.


End file.
